Lost in the Sewer

"Where the fuck am I?" 

   My voice echoed through the empty chasms of brown decaying stone and dripping water. It was too dark to see apart from the occasional barred window that opened up to the darkened sky. I splish-splashed across the slippery ground to the nearest opening. I couldn't see anything. I was stuck. I was lost. I was lost in the sewer. Everywhere I looked there was cracked stone, dampened by filthy water. TO the right some kind of staircase. To the left, this room went on forever.

     I took the obvious path. I tiptoed down the stone steps. And as I moved I could see light coming the bottom. I was hopeful. I had pride. Maybe this was the way out. But as my vision got clearer with the light something took shape on the ground in front of me. OH MY GOD! It was a horrid alligator! Covered in green waters nonchalantly blocking my path. Surely this was the end of my journey and my life! I tiptoed back up the stairs.

     But no. I couldn't give up. I had to make it back home. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my knife. The knife that had kept me feeling secure on many bus rides and walks home on dark nights. I grabbed that knife by its rubber hilt, flicked it open, and tiptoed back down the stairs. No alligator would stop me from getting back home. I made my way back around the corner, my heart racing, ready to plunge my knife into this demon. I had the beast in my sights. I crept up on it. Slowly. Ready. But as the light met my eyes, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was nothing but a huge puddle. I stomped my foot into the heart of my former enemy. Water splashed everywhere. I had claimed victory.

    But not just over my fears. To the right, in the farthest corner of this room, I could see the moon and the stars. And a staircase to the outside. I rushed in that direction. I was beginning to think I'd never see the grass of the earth again. And so I made my way home. I couldn't wait to tell my brother of my adventure. My adventure in the sewer.

   And guess who greeted me at the door to my house? None other than my beloved brother. But instead of a greeting, the words he said left me colder than a corpse in winter.

"I know about the sewer." I was taken aback. "Are you ready to go back?"

Lost in the Sewer by Joseph Emmanuel Smith is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Welcome to Weed Withdrawal Nightmares!

Welcome to Weed Withdrawal Nightmares. I'm your host Joey Nagarams.

Now you may be wondering "What the fuck is this?" That's why I'm here, you baby cheetah.

Marijuana use reduces the amount of REM sleep that you get every night. REM sleep is the type of sleep that makes you have dreams. And if you ever quit or take a break, that shit kicks into overdrive. And most of the time, that means you have crazy-ass vivid dreams.

This is what happened to me. I've had a story in my sleep every night since I quit. Sometimes multiple. Sometimes I have dreams so vivid they make me rethink shit when I'm awake. This blog is a place for me to archive them. Every story you read here is some actual shit that I dreamt believe it or not. Because if George Lucas can get rich off his dreams, I can at least get some folks on the internet to look at my shit.